Stretching

Ever have one of those moments where you are stretched?

Not molded, which is to be pushed and shaped and formed by something... an experience... a person... This is different. This is from within.

I've placed myself in a position that is forcing me to stretch. I could step out of it (it would be so much easier), but I won't. I will stay put and reach to become the person who can handle this. I'm not really comfortable, but that's okay, because I am reaching and changing and in the end, I know it will make me better.

I will continue to bend toward the light, reaching forth to make the right choices, no matter how hard, so that my petals might open and drink in the warmth of knowing that I've done right. Stretching is hard... it's uncomfortable and sometimes hurts.

You get to a point where you just want to stop, to recoil, to nurture the pain.

But growth doesn't occur with recoil; it happens with stretch. So I will gladly stay here, and reach for my toes, or reach for the sun, or both.